:

ground is threescore and ten miles afoot with me; and the stony-hearted villains know it well enough a plague upon it when thieves cannot be true one to another! [They whistle.] Whew! A plague upon you all! Give me my horse, you rogues; give me my horse, and be hanged!

Prince. Peace, ye fat-guts! lie down; lay thine ear close to the ground and list if thou canst hear the tread of travellers.

Fal. Have you any levers to lift me up again, being down? 'Sblood, I'll not bear mine own flesh so far afoot again for all the coin in thy father's exchequer. What a plague mean ye to colt me thus ?

Prince. Thou liest; thou art not colted, thou art uncolted.

Fal. I prithee, good Prince Hal, help me to my horse, good king's son.

Prince. Out, ye rogue! shall I be your ostler?

Fal. Go, hang thyself in thine own heirapparent garters! If I be ta'en, I'll peach for this. An I have not ballads made on you all and sung to filthy tunes, let a cup of sack be my poison: when a jest is so forward, and afoot too! I hate it.

Enter GADSHILL, BARDOLPH and PETO with him. Gads. Stand.

Fal. So I do, against my will.

Poins. O, 'tis our setter: I know his voice. Bardolph, what news?

Bard. Case ye, case ye; on with your vizards: there's money of the king's coming down the hill; 'tis going to the king's exchequer.

30

40

50

'Hang thyself in thy own garters' was a current objurgatory formula.

Fal. You lie, ye rogue; 'tis going to the king's

tavern.

Gads. There's enough to make us all.

Fal. To be hanged.

Prince. Sirs, you four shall front them in the narrow lane; Ned Poins and I will walk lower : if they 'scape from your encounter, then they light on us.

Peto. How many be there of them?

Gads. Some eight or ten.

Fal. 'Zounds, will they not rob us?

60

Prince. What, a coward, Sir John Paunch? Fal. Indeed, I am not John of Gaunt, your 70 grandfather; but yet no coward, Hal.

Prince. Well, we leave that to the proof.

Poins. Sirrah Jack, thy horse stands behind the hedge when thou needest him, there thou shalt find him. Farewell, and stand fast.

Fal. Now cannot I strike him, if I should be hanged.

Prince. Ned, where are our disguises?

Poins. Here, hard by: stand close.

[Exeunt Prince and Poins.

Fal. Now, my masters, happy man be his 80 dole, say I: every man to his business.

Enter the Travellers.

First Trav. Come, neighbour: the boy shall lead our horses down the hill; we'll walk afoot awhile, and ease our legs.

Thieves. Stand!

Travellers. Jesus bless us.

Fal. Strike; down with them; cut the villains' throats: ah! whoreson caterpillars! bacon-fed

80. happy man be his dole, be it his lot to be a happy man.
88. caterpillars, idle devourers of the state.

knaves! they hate us youth: down with them:

fleece them.

Travellers. O, we are undone, both we and ours for ever!

Fal. Hang ye, gorbellied knaves, are ye undone? No, ye fat chuffs; I would your store were here! On, bacons, on! What, ye knaves! young men must live. You are grandjurors, are ye? we'll jure ye, 'faith.

[Here they rob them and bind them.

Exeunt.

Re-enter PRINCE HENRY and POINS.

90

Prince. The thieves have bound the true men. Now could thou and I rob the thieves and go merrily to London, it would be argument for a 100 week, laughter for a month, and a good jest for

ever.

Poins. Stand close; I hear them coming.

Enter the Thieves again.

Fal. Come, my masters, let us share, and then to horse before day. An the Prince and Poins be not two arrant cowards, there's no equity stirring: there's no more valour in that Poins than in a wild-duck.

Prince. Your money!

Poins. Villains!

[As they are sharing, the Prince and Poins set upon them; they all run away; and Falstaff, after a blow or two, runs away too, leaving the booty behind them.]

93. gorbellied, big-bellied,

well-to-do miserly clowns.

96. grandjurors, i.e. men of social pretensions.

Prince. Got with much ease.

horse :

Now merrily to

The thieves are all scatter'd and possess'd with

fear

So strongly that they dare not meet each other;
Each takes his fellow for an officer.

Away, good Ned. Falstaff sweats to death,
And lards the lean earth as he walks along :
Were't not for laughing, I should pity him.
Poins. How the rogue roar'd!

[Exeunt.

Enter HOTSPUR, solus, reading a letter.

Hot. But, for mine own part, my lord, I could be well contented to be there, in respect of the love I bear your house.' He could be contented: why is he not, then? In respect of the love he bears our house: he shows in this, he loves his own barn better than he loves our house. Let me see some more. 'The purpose you undertake is dangerous;'-why, that's certain: 'tis dangerous to take a cold, to sleep, to drink; but I tell you, my lord fool, out of this nettle, danger, we pluck 10 this flower, safety. 'The purpose you undertake is dangerous; the friends you have named uncertain; the time itself unsorted; and your whole plot too light for the counterpoise of so great an

Sc. 3. reading a letter. The writer of the letter is not indicated; but Yorkshire tradition (reported in 1811 to Scott by his friend Morritt of Rokeby) identified him with Rokeby, High 13. unsorted, ill-chosen.

Sheriff of the county, who pursued Percy after the battle (Lockhart's Scott, ii. 386, quot. Wright, Cl. Press ed. of this play).

opposition.' Say you so, say you so? I say unto you again, you are a shallow cowardly hind, and you lie. What a lack-brain is this! By the Lord, our plot is a good plot as ever was laid; our friends true and constant : a good plot, good friends, and full of expectation; an excellent plot, very good friends. What a frosty-spirited rogue is this! Why, my lord of York commends the plot and the general course of the action. 'Zounds, an I were now by this rascal, I could brain him with his lady's fan. Is there not my father, my uncle and myself? lord Edmund Mortimer, my lord of York and Owen Glendower? is there not besides the Douglas? have I not all their letters to meet me in arms by the ninth of the next month? and are they not some of them set forward already? What a pagan rascal is this! an infidel! Ha! you shall see now in very sincerity of fear and cold heart, will he to the king and lay open all our proceedings. O, I could divide myself and go to buffets, for moving such a dish of skim milk with so honourable an action!, Hang him! let him tell the king: we are prepared. I will set forward to-night.

Enter LADY PERCY.

How now, Kate! I must leave you within these two hours.

20. expectation, promise. 22. my lord of York, the archbishop, Richard Scroop.

24. brain him with his lady's fan. The heavy (often silver) handle of the fan was an occasional female weapon, but only capable of 'braining' a 'lackbrain.'

20

30

34. divide myself and go to buffets, quarrel with and belabour myself.

35. moving, addressing myself to.

39. Kate. Lady Percy's real name (cf. note to 1 i. 1. 38) was Elizabeth.